Svarturgythja
by Maldemar Kalik
Summary: A fiction set in a Viking based world. WIP and only just begun, and since i'm making it up as i go along, i can't really say where it's going or what the plot arc is...
1. Chapter 1

I leapt to the side just in time as my opponent's blade rang across a tail of my mailshirt, where my leg had been a mere moment previously. The mail lagged behind my movement only slightly, but enough to tell it had been a close call for sure.

My opponent took a step back and rebraced his shield again, clearly rethinking his approach. I leveled my spear and held my shield with a loose arm, speed would serve me best versus the superior warrior who sought my death now.

The soldier's urge to have me dead fast led him to charge again, his sword was more measured and aimed this time however. I leapt back again and shot out towards his face with my spear, his shield blocked it with ease, but it got his attention, and his flurry of attacks slowed for an instant. I used the momentary break to jump forward, as I raised my spear with my forearm and armpit's leverage. With the spear shaft held up by virtue of being trapped under my armpit, my now free hand grasped the short swift knife that I had been hiding in my shield hand. The spear impacted his shield weakly, diverting his attention as I whipped my arm under and out from the spear, meanwhile sidestepping left and swinging my shield to my right, into his sword. The shield held his weapon away from me, and forced his arm forward. He could have twisted it round my shield again and gutted me, but speed was MY ally. The knife buried itself in his back, below his neck. He fell to the floor immediately, struggled momentarily, then the last of his life finally left him and his body slumped fully to the ground.

I stood over the corpse for a moment, unsure of what to do. It was a minor blessing that the man had come after me alone. It was almost a day's walk from the town of Heormir, so trekking through the night, could get me well ahead of his companions by the time they found him. Right now reaching my home and shed was the priority, or to be more precise, the ships and river beside them.

I knelt down beside the man's corpse, and searched for items of use. His own mailshirt would've been valuable and useful for repairs to my own, however it would wear me down and exhaust me on my trudge through the night. I thought of ditching my own mail too, but when they inevitably caught up to me, I was sure I would need it.

The man's money pouch wisely had only enough to travel on; only foolish men carry all their money with them for thieves to take. But what little he had would help.

A few other bits and pieces deemed useful I tied about my person or added to pouches, then rolled the body behind a tree. There wasn't time to be thorough about hiding the body, since they would inevitably find it anyway. At least hidden in the forest flanking the road, he might not be discovered by random travelers passing this way, only by my dedicated pursuers.

Scraping the blood on the ground out with my boot, I set off Northwards on the path once more.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun had long set when I reached my home. The moonlight illuminated the clearing where my house and working shed sat side by side. Built on a rise beside the river A'finntrond, named for the Lord's port of Finntrond a little way up river. Where the rise fell sharply into the river, a fine collection of big and small boats and simpler currachs, were tied up to lines of mooring posts. All of them were made by my own hands, as a shipwright I had gained quite a reputation but all that was likely, no certain, to come crashing down now.

I would soon have to leave this land I had known so long. It wasn't the leaving so much that brought the tingle of sorrow to my heart, so much as not being able to return. I had traveled far in my boast before, but I'd always had my home to return to.

What to take? Which vessel to take? Where to go?

All these questions needed answers and rattled around my head as I quietly approached the clearing.

A flicker of flame caught my eye as I approached my house, it came from the window slit. I was close enough to the door already, and just about summoned the strength to leap to the doorstep, in the blindspot between the front windows. I heard the creak of the floorboards under someone's feet as the moved restlessly and tensely behind the door.

I was tired from the long night's walk, my eyes were blurred over and barely able to stay open anymore. I would have to be quick, end it in a single movement, otherwise whoever it was would have the advantage of me easily.

My shoulder slammed into the door, throwing it violently open. It hit nothing as it swung aside. I however had taken a step back again, standing with my spear leveled at where I would have been had I continued my charge into the building.

The man inside leapt into the doorway's light from behind the door, stumbling on his feet as he quickly realised there was no opponent in the doorway, but he now faced my leveled spear instead.

I lunged immediately, aiming for his stomach, then quickly adjusted twisting the spear into the beams of the door frame.

"Wulfgar!...you bastard" I coughed out gladly through my exhaustion.

"What are... you..." I fell to my knees, suddenly realising how much the long trek and long night after a life or death fight, had taken out of me.

"Hahaha! Well i'm glad you decided not to impale me!" laughed Wulfgar heartily, though I sensed he was also worried as to why I had attempted to kill him.

He hauled me inside my house, and settled me down with a cup of water. I couldn't help but remember the similar times, after a long night at the tavern he'd carried me in and given me the same cup of water.

I sipped the water to sooth my throat, and spoke.

"I'm not drunk, and there are men after me" Wulfgar saw the serious and worried look in my eyes.

"God's blood Leif!" He sighed "How serious is it?"

"There was an argument... He was a soldier. And the Lord..." I trailed off, I didn't need to say any more.

Wulfgar sighed more heavily this time, and leant forward.

"So the lord's after you for killing one of his men?"

"Aye"

"Since your still alive, I assume it wasn't in the town."

"It started in the town, a bar fight. He didn't take to being beaten up in front of his fellows." I took another sip of the drink.

"He demanded i meet him out of town for a rematch by fists, I was right to bring my mail and spear."

"Haha! Thought he'd kill you with tricks eh?" My old friend laughed again, knowing what i meant.

"Still, the lord won't be pleased, he'll want you crippled as an example. No more ship building for you. Not that your planning on letting him eh? Or you'd have gone back to town, with your tail between you legs! Hehe"

"Are you with me?" The question was pointless.

"Of course I bloody am!" He slammed down his cup and stood up "So tell me which ship we're taking already!?"

I had been thinking about it for some time. There would be no getting far with just a little boat, but the larger the vessel the more supplies it would take to fill it, taking time we did not have. Furthermore even an eight oar boat would be a struggle to man with just the two of us.

"The lads will miss you boss" Wulfgar said, reminiscing. And then it hit me.

"I've got a plan" I said, struggling to my feet beside him and grinning.


	3. Chapter 3

Wulfgar and I gathered the minimal of necessities from my house. Together we made our way through the boatshed and across the moorings, with the cooling air of the now early morning sharpening the moonlight that dimly lit the buildings and rippling water. At the end of the line of moorings was a single longship, significantly larger than any of the others, It's craftsmanship was the finest I'd ever done, and it was meant to be for the lord of Heomir's region. I had originally set out to Heomir to inform him of the ships completion, but now ironically it would be my tool of escape from him. The cold breeze kept me cool as I quickly slung our supplies and a few extra useful items into it's hold.

Before Wulfgar could cast off the mooring lines, I checked her sleek hull for damage or potential problems. The large square sail was stored, being wrapped around the yard; the wooden beam that was hung sideways from the tall mast, now it lay length-ways with the ship upon crutches from the deck. This ship's yard however was made from 2 equal lengths of wood overlapped in the centre and lashed to each other, this was because I had only been able to obtain one piece of timber large enough for the mast's size, another almost as long was not available for the yard, such timbers were rare to come by. Nonetheless the yard was made strong by the lashing, and would perform just as well.

I made sure there were plenty of warm furs stored on deck, as the open ship would be very exposed to the elements. Now with the ship ready enough, I yelled to Wulfgar, who untied the mooring lines and flung them aboard, leaping aboard himself soon after. I helped him over the gunwhale and looked up to see the river's flow pick up the ship's momentum, she began to accelerate away from the moorings and my home I'd known for such a long time. It wasn't really the memories nor any sense of security from the familiar surroundings that most tore at me for leaving, instead it was all the tools, my proud collection of equipment I had gathered over the years, the boatshed's store of planks and various specialised timber that I would no longer be able to rely upon. I hoped somewhere over the horizon I would find somewhere new to build up stores of wood and continue my passion for ship building.

Quickly shaking myself awake from my internal thoughts, I stood and signaled for Wulfgar to take his position on the bow of the ship with an oar, while I sat at the tiller for the ship's steerboard; the steering board developed from an oversized oar lashed over the starboard side of the ship, and the tiller was a shaft of wood that slotted perpendicularly into it, and could thus be used to steer the ship.

The river was taking us away downstream by it's powerful flow, and without steering the ship would drift onto the riverbanks and likely be smashed and broken by rocks in places, or simply dig itself into the mud and be un-movable and useless for escape.

Really it was actually insanity to even attempt to pilot the huge vessel with just 2 crew, however our objective was only a mile or two downstream along a fairly straight section of the river. Wulfgar held an oar over the bow and aided my steering as we persuaded the ship to stay mid-channel, where the water was deepest, and drifted our way further along the starlit river.


	4. Chapter 4

Through my blurred and tired eyesight I finally made out the approaching silhouette of my local tavern, built alongside the river for the convenience of most nautical folk, it's wooden jetty sticking out into a widened section of the river attested to it's most common customers. Several small boats were already tied up at the jetty, their owners clearly still inside. One boat however had been being untied and prepared for the trip home, however this process had been halted as it's pair of occupants looked up to see the black silhouette of our longship approaching out of the night.

After several moments staring at our approach, the men recognised the ship and shook themselves out of their surprise to help us secure the mooring lines to the jetty.

"Lief!? The lord's ship? ...and you look half dead sir." The man was Jarnvind, a strongly superstitious man, and one of the oldest and best sailors and craftsmen among my comrades.

"It's a long story, and I don't have a lot of time. But if you'd care to gather whomever else of my lads are inside and join me for a round, I'd be happy to explain what i can." I stepped off the ship onto the jetty's creaky planking.

Jarnvind gave me a firm slap across the back nearly knocking me flat over in my weakened state. He laughed, though nervously, and walked me inside.

Bergjohf, the man who had been with Jarnvind, opened the tavern door and stepped in first. This got the attention of the entire tavern, Bergjohf was as tall as a mountain and built like an ox. Despite his commanding presence he was a quiet man, some thought him to be dumb because of it, but I had known him speak before. He simply held his tongue most of the time as a wise way of avoiding trouble and also I think he didn't believe in saying anything more than was needed.

The other 3 of us made our way under the low-beamed threshold, and Jarnvind beckoned for our friends to join us on a pair of benches beside the main fire. Just less than a dozen men sat on each long bench (including myself.) Behind them at least another dozen stood leaning in, some voluntarily, some through their drunken state.

I explained the situation slowly through my exhaustion, the soldier's challenge, how the lord would want to cripple my hands at the very least and prevent me from working a craft ever again as punishment and how I did not intend to be mutilated so! Angry drunken curses were being yelled on the lord's name when I had brought everyone briefly up to date.

"Men will come after me of course, and I'd rather not be here in the morning to meet them." I summarised. "I've taken the Lord's ship we were building, and drifted her down to the tavern mooring. I need men to sail her, but be sure before you agree, I will not force any of you to associate with an outlaw against your will." I was expecting at least one or two to back out and wish me luck, more likely many, but to my surprise all laughed and cheered to my support. My heart fluttered slightly with the pride of such loyal men, drunk as they were.

"I have one concern." spoke Jarnvind "The lord's ship was unfinished last I heard."

"Minor finishing touches." I explained "She lacks a little polish, and a few pieces of tackle, but nothing we can't sail without."

"That's fair, but i can think of one problem still"

"Oh?"

"She's got no name still. It won't do to sail in a ship with no name Leif" He spoke concernedly "For a start the gods can't bless a ship without a name, an' there ain't a sailor alive stupid enough to sail without the assurance of one god or another."

"you speak the truth, I know Jarnvind" I said pondering hard on the tough question of what to name our ship "she needs a name, a worthy and good one, for our journey will need all the blessings it can get. But what..."

"Gythja?" a young lad from the back of the crowd spoke up, I recognised him but I knew not his name.

"As in the priestesses?" I mulled the word over in my head "Yes, that would please the gods, and it makes a fine sounding name. But i feel it's still missing something."

"Picky as always, ye bugger" muttered Aedvin

"Silence! You'd rather have the gods sink ye?" Jarnvind yelled back. The two had a habit of disagreeing, luckily it was always kept below the lethal sort though.

"We're about to become outlaws, and that black ship there makes a terrifying sight, fit to strike a good fear of us into whomever we meet." I explained, leading up to my idea. "She should be Svarturgythja – the pitch black priestess."

A nod of agreements went around my gathered men and it was settled.


	5. Chapter 5

A final round of drinks was passed around the group before we made our move out of the tavern. We made an ungainly parade of drunkards as we made our way to the newly christened 'Svarturgythja'

Despite our various drunken states, the sheets and lines were properly hauled, and stowed for the journey rather than laying about the deck as they had been. Such was the fruit of many a day's hard teaching and punishment. I had drilled such routines into my men so they never forgot them, and they carried them out automatically, with hands moving by their own memory before their drunkenness could affect their performance.

It made me proud to see them all working so.

An arrow impacting the sternpost rudely broke my trail of thought.

"Dammit!"I exclaimed, the lord's men had ridden by horse to catch me, and hadn't even taken long to determine my destination.

The Svarturgythja was already cast loose and underway, but drink panics men even easier, and the ship was soon a chaos of shouting. All the shouting echoed and ached through my head and I sat down, and leant against the side of the boat.

Amidst the blur of action I watched an arrow plunge into my mailshirt.

It hurt. But I was simply too tired to care, so I finally succumbed to the urge for sleep then and there.


	6. Chapter 6

All around me lay a blanket of cold, the blackness was lonely and terrifying, but yet strangely comforting as I seemed to care less and less with each passing moment. Through the darkness a mix of colours showed, like hallucinations in a thick mist. A golden strand of light, i could swear formed an old warrior, a man clad in chainmail and helmet that the light shone off as a newly risen sun. Beside him a white misty light formed a wolf's head, and it seemed to look me in the eye, as if staring into my very soul. Darker grey shadows whipped around me, I was no longer lethargic, I cared now for what was happening, and I knew only that whatever these were I would not succumb to them. The cold that had surrounded me warmed with my new found motivation and grew further into a searing heat that lanced my chest and i gasped forward screaming without air.

Jarnvind stared back at me through my blurred eyes, he wrenched the poker free of the arrow wound and handed it to a lad nearby.

"You'll live lad, this ship still needs ye." he spoke, without any clear tone.

Looking up I could see the sail was filled by the wind, and knew that she was headed downriver once more, whether the Lord's men were fought off or a cunning escape had been made, I decided the answers could wait till I woke.

The sun was well risen when I awoke, I felt by miles more refreshed, though I still could not stand. Propping myself up against the sternpost at the aft of the ship, I sought to learn how we had escaped, undoubtedly narrowly.

Jarnvind leant on the tiller in front of me, holding steady the board that steered the ship's course through the water.

"Was chaos alright, drunken idiots running and hiding at first." He lowered his head in clear dismay.

Svarturgythja

"Lost Frey, the short lad, 'bout the same time you got hit. But when you looked dead, Wulfgar roared to Ragnar's hall like some beast of a bard's tale, hurled a boarding axe into the nearest archer and split his skull clean open." Jarnvind grinned, his joy of both recounting and remembering a good battle fought, clear and evident. "been a while since I'd seen such fun. Grim as it is, I'm glad you brought the lord's trouble to us. I almost feel like I was a lad again, been too long since I've felt the rush of battle, and Ragnar's great hand on my shoulder."

His gaze returned from the sky and his reminiscence "After Wulfgar's rallying charge, 'most all of the crew got their senses back, we killed the other 4 men with fair ease, couple of scrapes and cuts, but no more lost. Good thing they didn't expect you to have friends."

He threw me a wrapped up half-loaf of bread "best recover soon, we'll be nearing the coast tomorrow."

He was right, I could smell the salt on the air already.

The rest of the day I spent under the warm furs, and nibbling at whatever food I could stomach, and watching the comforting bustle of the crew about the ship. The wound on my chest now that I had time to examine it, was a lucky one indeed; the wide and fresh scar where the arrow had been pulled out and cauterized, was high on one shoulder, and at a guess the padding under my mailshirt had taken most of the arrow's force, so it just penetrated an inch into my shoulder. A great blessing that it had not gone so far that it would need to be through and out the other side, as was common for arrow wounds, to avoid any barbs tearing more flesh when removed than on the way in. Still, I thought, it should not have been a wound to down a man... unless that man had already been to tired to stand, I let out a quiet laugh at the thought.

Svarturgythja

"Lost Frey, the short lad, 'bout the same time you got hit. But when you looked dead, Wulfgar roared to Ragnar's hall like some beast of a bard's tale, hurled a boarding axe into the nearest archer and split his skull clean open." Jarnvind grinned, his joy of both recounting and remembering a good battle fought, clear and evident. "been a while since I'd seen such fun. Grim as it is, I'm glad you brought the lord's trouble to us. I almost feel like I was a lad again, been too long since I've felt the rush of battle, and Ragnar's great hand on my shoulder."

His gaze returned from the sky and his reminiscence "After Wulfgar's rallying charge, 'most all of the crew got their senses back, we killed the other 4 men with fair ease, couple of scrapes and cuts, but no more lost. Good thing they didn't expect you to have friends."

He threw me a wrapped up half-loaf of bread "best recover soon, we'll be nearing the coast tomorrow."

He was right, I could smell the salt on the air already.

The rest of the day I spent under the warm furs, and nibbling at whatever food I could stomach, and watching the comforting bustle of the crew about the ship. The wound on my chest now that I had time to examine it, was a lucky one indeed; the wide and fresh scar where the arrow had been pulled out and cauterized, was high on one shoulder, and at a guess the padding under my mailshirt had taken most of the arrow's force, so it just penetrated an inch into my shoulder. A great blessing that it had not gone so far that it would need to be through and out the other side, as was common for arrow wounds, to avoid any barbs tearing more flesh when removed than on the way in. Still, I thought, it should not have been a wound to down a man... unless that man had already been to tired to stand, I let out a quiet laugh at the thought.


End file.
